by Becky Akers
Becky Akers is a writer in New York City.
Digging out from under the record 27 inches of snow that blanketed New York City last weekend was an adventure. Unfortunately, the New York City Department of Sanitation stood ready to help.
You might think said department would be too busy plowing the city's 19,000 miles of paved streets to tackle anything else. But the peculiar combination of ennui and energy characterizing all bureaucracies damns this one, too: it barely bothers with the job assigned it while minding everybody else's business. Even as the snow deepened in the streets, the Sanitation Department worried about my sidewalk.
It isn't really my sidewalk, of course. I don't own it, and I can't prohibit anyone from doing as he pleases on it. Dog-walkers consider it their pets' bathroom; kids treat it as their roller-skating rink or baseball field; revelers raucously congregate on it, smack-dab below my bedroom window, at 2 a.m.. I am powerless to prohibit any of this, regardless of how it disturbs me, because the sidewalk is public property.
Let that sidewalk buckle, crack, or shed a chunk of concrete, however, and it suddenly belongs to me.
Section 2904 of the City Charter states: The owner of any property, at his or her own cost, shall install, reconstruct, repave and repair the sidewalk flags [sections] abutting such property, whenever the Commissioner of the Department shall so order or direct.
Thus does the city government tax property owners, already paying exorbitant extortion, yet again. Leviathan burdens them with all the responsibilities of ownership while stripping them of the joys. Whether they own a single-family home, a 300-unit apartment building, a mom-and-pop store, or a commercial office tower, they pay to maintain that part of the city’s property contiguous to theirs. Nor are they permitted any say in when the sidewalk requires repairing: that prerogative belongs to bureaucrats, not the property owners forking over the money for the repairs. Divorcing the government from the economic consequences of its decisions also rules out patching: even flags with minor cracks or pits must be ripped up and replaced in their entirety.
It’s a profitable scam in a city where many property owners are large, loathed landlords. And so the city adapted it for snowy days. As Commissioner John Doherty of the Sanitation Department warns us, Whether you're the owner, tenant, occupant or the person in charge of any lot or building, you must clear the snow and/or ice from your sidewalk within four (4) hours after the snow has stopped falling, or by 11 a.m. if the snow stopped falling after 9 p.m. the night before. [Original emphasis.]
Space is at too much of a premium in Manhattan to allow devil's strips. The sidewalk meets the street's curb with no grass between. Clearing the sidewalk, then, equates to pushing the snow into the street because there's nowhere else for it to go. Ah, but the Commissioner is ready for that: As you clear your sidewalk, keep in mind: you must not throw snow into the street. It’s against the law and it forces Sanitation to re-plow your street.
I applaud his optimism. It is a rare snowstorm during which Sanitation manages to plow a majority of the streets even once, let alone a second time.
Naturally, there are penalties for figuring that the Sanitation Czar should clear his own sidewalks with the employees and equipment we buy him: Failure to comply with the law may result in fines ranging from $100 to $350.
And what of the elderly owner, tenant, occupant or person in charge who lives alone? What about home-owners in wheelchairs, or heart-patients? Fear not: the Commissioner sympathizes. If your doctor has told you not to shovel, don't do it. However, lest invalids rejoice at this exemption, he adds, Your next-door teenage neighbor can surely use the money. Then our magnanimous Commissioner reminds the able-bodied: If you're in good health and your neighbor is disabled or elderly, give a helping hand! The city certainly won't: those disabled and elderly neighbors will be fined if their sidewalks aren't clean.
Perfect Storm
How did all this play out during Sunday's snowstorm?
I headed out into the blizzard at about 10 a.m. to hike the 30 blocks to church. A foot of snow already covered the ground, so I planned to walk in the streets, following tire tracks: Sunday mornings seem to be the only time New York City sleeps, and I doubted most people would be up and about, let alone shoveling. Besides, it was still snowing heavily, at the rate of two inches per hour, according to weather reports. No property owner was legally obligated to battle the elements yet.
Nevertheless, the sidewalks were fine, some completely clear, others with a narrow path shoveled and salted. Buildings in Manhattan have supers and porters who depend on tips from the folks who live and work inside. Residents bruised from falling while the staff loiters uselessly don't tip. That keeps the building's employees hopping to clear the pavement. Ditto for businesses who want customers walking through their front doors, not slipping and sliding past.
The city's streets, on the other hand, were almost impassible. What little traffic there was crawled down them, wheels spinning. I had to forge my way through every unplowed intersection.
During that half-hour's march, I passed an army of snow-shovelers. But not one of Leviathan’s snow-plows passed me.